


Double Trouble (but Double the Fun)

by ChibiSquirt



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (post-CW Steve is pining), Crossover, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Vaguely AA Steve/Tony meets post-CW Steve and Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:32:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiSquirt/pseuds/ChibiSquirt
Summary: Steve and Tony need to get home, but on the way they encounter some people theyreallydidn't expect.





	Double Trouble (but Double the Fun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [juanitatequila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juanitatequila/gifts).



> Cross-posted to Tumblr

“Portals are what got us  _ into  _ this mess, Tony, I doubt they’re going to get us out of it!”

“That is  _ precisely  _ why they’re going to get us out of it.”  Tony didn’t even look up at Steve, just continued typing on the massive computer that dominated Evil-Richards’ tower.  “Nothing like going out the same door you came in, is there?”

“That depends!”  Steve hurled the last of what Tony had called “Evil Gumby Dolls” out of the lab, then hit the button to seal the door and pelted back up to where Tony was working on the device.  “I want to go  _ home,  _ Tony— so is it the door to a house, or—”

The portal device flared brilliantly blue-white, pink swirling after-vision blinding Steve as he and Tony both wobbled and clung to each other, unbalanced.

“ — or an elevator?” Steve finished.

He looked around.  

It was a bizarrely cheerful hotel room:  the walls were panelled in seafoam-green-and-ivory stripes, the furniture was goldenrod and grass shades.  Steve sort of wanted to paint it, actually, although he would never have said that. The bed, dresser, and table were all squat and round, the mattress covered with an absurdly cozy-looking coverlet.  The bed probably groaned when you sat on it, and the oak headboard almost certainly thumped the wall.

Given the decorating, Steve had to wonder a bit at the instinct that had told him this was a hotel room, not a studio apartment.  After another look around, though, he spotted the tipoff: the bags tossed by the window (which had chintzy curtains, of course). One was a navy-blue duffle, the other a pepto bismol pink suitcase with wheels.  Both were, obviously, luggage.

But if the bags were here, where were the room’s occupants?

“Did you hear something?”

Oh.  

In the bathroom, of course.  Now that Steve paid attention, he could hear the water running.  But why were  _ both  _ of them in the bathroom?  ...Probably not because of  _ that,  _ right?

“Fuck.”  There was an awful lot of splashing; maybe it  _ was  _ because of that.  “Wait, Natasha— you can’t go out there like that!”

“Oh, please.  I’m soaking wet, I’m not putting the catsuit back on—”

_ “Natasha?!” _ Tony blurted.  To be fair, it  _ had  _ sounded like her— 

The bathroom door slammed open.

Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, stood framed in the doorway.  Her hair was shockingly blond, her eyebrows dark. She was dripping wet and very, very naked. 

Except for the gun.  Her gun was not naked.  It was also pointed straight at Tony.  

Tony’s eyes widened, and he stepped back, raising his arms in surrender.  Her eyes narrowed, and he hurriedly tipped the repulsors towards the floor, too.  She glanced to the side, at Steve— and lost her jaw.  _ “Steve?!”   _

Steve also had his hands raised.  Also his gaze, because he wanted there to be a negative-three-percent chance that she would catch him looking at her jiggling, perfect chest.  He had been on the wrong side of the Widow too many times in practice to risk giving her the wrong impression now. “We can explain,” he blurted.

“You know, somehow... I really doubt that.”

From behind the Widow, a naked man, white hotel wrapped around his trim waist, emerged.  He was dark with body hair stuck to his skin, dripping water the same as the Widow was. His chest was broad and juicy, his pecs standing out clearly, his nipples dark and pointed in the cold.  He had goosebumps, Steve noticed, but in the face of the water they weren’t doing much to raise his arm hair. He wrapped another towel around the Widow from behind, at no point during the maneuver blocker her aim.  His face was covered in a beard, and something about him was wrong, utterly wrong. 

He was backwards, Steve realized.  He was backwards, because before, Steve had only ever seen that face in a mirror.

This was Steve Rogers— the Steve Rogers of  _ this  _ world.  And they were obviously in deep, deep trouble.

 

* * *

 

They volunteered to wait in the bathroom while the two native Avengers changed into clothes.  When Bearded Steve called them out, he was wearing a thick, gray sweatshirt and jeans. He had boots on, Steve noticed, plain, hard-wearing brown ones.  It was sensible from a strategy standpoint, because after all, he couldn’t know why they were were, but it did sting a little. 

Natasha was dressed differently, in a cutesy, close-fitted, salmon-colored suit.  It had a skirt and a jacket, her blouse had a little bow in front (it was white), her hair was a conservative bob (Steve had thrown the hairdryer out the door for her), and her shoes were two-inch pumps in a matching shade of salmon.  She looked feminine, and harmless, and nothing like the Natasha they knew. It was very obvious which one of them had booked the hotel room, and if it weren’t for her voice, Steve wouldn’t even have recognized her.

Her voice, and the gun.  She had the gun back. It was either pointing at them again, or— unlikely, but given Natasha, possible— pointing at them  _ still.   _

“So.”  Bearded Steve rested his hands on the cutesy-poo desk, looked at it, frowned, and folded them in his lap, instead.  “How are you here?”

_ “Why  _ are you here?” Natasha added, a snarl in her voice.  “And how did you  _ find  _ us?”

“Woah, woah, woah— easy!”  Steve put on his best placating voice.  From the blink and the taken aback expression, Bearded Steve recognized it from the inside.  “Tony? You want to explain?”

He watched both Bearded Steve’s and Natasha’s faces go hard, and wondered what had happened to their Tony.

“Sure!” Tony blurted, oblivious.  He outlined their adventure with Evil Reed Richards, who had tried to summon and enslave an army of Avengers to defeat Thanos.  “The worst part is, we almost  _ did  _ help him, except that in that universe, Thanos was a good guy, trying to duplicate all the resources of the universe for some reason.”  

“Kind of wish he’d tried that in our world, instead of trying to use genocide to seduce Death!” Steve muttered.  

Natasha and Bearded Steve looked Concerned.  

“So,” Tony continued hastily, “Instead of helping Reed, we all teamed up, fought off Reed, and went back home.  Steve and I were the last group to the portal device; everyone else had gone first. At least  _ they  _ probably made it home. 

“The machine claimed to be magic, but actually it was just hacking the low-level psychic field that all humans possess.  I knew we wouldn’t be in our universe, but the rest of our Avengers would be. I was trying to set it to find our Natasha, but, well...”  He stopped talking and gestured at this new, deceptively-girly Natasha with one gauntleted hand. “I was rushing; obviously, I messed it up.”  His mouth twisted bitterly.

Natasha pursed her lips (salmon lipstick).  She looked at Bearded Steve.

Bearded Steve was looking at Tony.  Steve got a good look at the expression hiding behind all that hair, and his heart kicked up speed.  

That was  _ want.   _

He looked back at Natasha, expecting to see betrayal on her— she was the Black Widow, so surely she, if anyone, would know what that look meant— but she just rolled her eyes and dropped the gun.  “I’m going to go check out that pie shop,” she informed the three of them. “You all have fun, and clean it all up before I get back.” 

Tony jumped, his armor clanking.  “What?”

“You’re not going to find him there,” Bearded Steve called as she slipped past them to the doorway.

“You don’t know that,” she answered without turning around.  She grabbed her purse— sleek, modern; white leather— and ducked out the door, poking her head back around at the last minute to smile impishly at them all.  “Have fun,” she repeated. “And if you’re  _ extra  _ good to me, maybe I’ll bring you some pie!”

 

* * *

 

Steve watched the newcomers turn back to him as Natasha vanished around the doorframe.  Tony looked baffled, still, but Steve’s otherworldly counterpart apparently had at least this much in common with him:  he knew what Natasha meant. He turned to Steve.

“When she said ‘extra good,’ she meant video, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Steve confirmed.  “Although I’m kind of wondering if we shouldn’t just give up on getting pie.”

“Well, I figure we’ll want the calories,” said Cap.  And he was, clearly, a Steve who was still Captain America:  his hair had a golden blond spitcurl, his chin was clean shaven, and the blue of his uniform put an autumn sky to shame.  He started unfastening the clasps of the uniform— they were all in the same places Steve remembered.

“Uhh, Steve?  What are you doing?”  Tony’s face was as uncertain as his voice, and he was waving his hands in the air as if they were a wand he could use to stop Cap from stripping.

“Tony... you remember how, when we got together, we talked about the boundaries of our relationship?”  Cap had the whole upper jacket unzipped, and now he was edging it off to the floor.

“Uh... yeah?”

“Wait,” Steve said.  “You’re a couple?”

“And you remember how, when we were talking about possible conditions under which non-monogamy might occur, we mentioned alternate universes?”

“That was a joke.”

“I don’t want to break up a couple.  Or... disturb you, I guess.”

“You’re not,” Cap told Steve shortly, then turned back to Tony.  “It was a joke because we thought it  _ couldn’t happen,”  _ he said, his voice coaxing.  “But now, faced with the reality of a Steve Rogers who definitely needs some dick...”

“Okay, number one, feel free to talk dirty to me as much as you like because that  _ literally never  _ gets old, but number two, we walked in on him fucking  _ Natasha.   _ I don’t think he needs anything from us.”

They both turned back to look at Steve, Tony critically, Cap while stepping out of his pants.  (Whitey tighties; he was  _ definitely  _ still Captain America.)  Steve coughed. “I’m not gonna go so far as to say I  _ need  _ anything...”  

His voice trailed off as Cap stepped out of his pants, advanced on Tony— still in the Iron Man armor, although without the helmet, which had apparently been gone before they arrived— and kissed him.  It was a showy, possessive kind of kiss, deep, lots of tongue, lingering... A lover’s kiss, without a doubt. And a very, very sexy kiss.

Fuck, Steve was hard.  And Cap’s ass in those briefs was...  It had to be some kind of sin to feel this way about yourself, right?  

Cap broke the kiss and turned back to him, one arm slung around Tony’s neck in an undeniable claim. 

Steve tipped his head to the side in acknowledgement.  “I won’t say there’s nothing I  _ want,  _ though...”

 

* * *

 

In the end, they do set up the camera.  Cap and Tony agree on the grounds that they’ll probably never have to deal with anyone in this world once they get to the Avengers Compound, where the tech to build a portal is, so even if it gets out, they don’t care.  Steve just knows he’s going to get more than pie out of it.

And, since Zemo, he hasn’t been able to talk to the real Tony, so he’ll cling to this facsimile.  Pathetic? Yes. But that’s never stopped him before...

Everything’s going swimmingly— three-way kisses and rough, wandering hands; the catches on Tony’s armor aren’t what Steve is used to, but the armor comes off quickly enough that he can ignore it— and then all of them are naked and Steve says the absolutely wrong thing:

“Hey, Tony...  You gonna mind if I fuck your man?”

Tony was on his knees in front of them when Steve said it, mouth going back and forth between their cocks— both uncut, both the same size, although hilariously, Cap’s pubic hair was better trimmed— but at this he pulled back, looking up at them both with wide eyes and his mouth pink with friction.

Cap froze, and then turned to Steve with a dangerous look in his eyes.  “...Who said  _ you  _ were gonna be the one to fuck  _ me?”   _

 

* * *

 

 

The room was trashed by the time Natasha got back— with pie, because she actually did know Steve exceedingly well.  She stepped over the wreckage of the bathroom door, picked her way through the piles of splinters that were all that remained of the chintzy desk.  The strong oak beams of the bedframe had been torn asunder, one of them sticking up diagonally like an enormous oak erection, one of them jutting out cock-eyed like a tripwire. 

She kicked Steve in the side when she made it over to him, dropping the pie on top of him.  He caught it without opening his eyes. Apparently, fucking the hell out of his alternate universe self had been  _ exhausting.   _

“You’re paying the deposit,” Natasha informed him.  “Did you have to trash the room?”

“We had a disagreement,” Steve told her.  “Over topping.”

Natasha stood up a little straighter.  “Ooh! Fighting?”

“Hand to hand, mostly,” the clean-shaven Steve told her.  He also was lying still with his eyes closed. They must have had a pretty great time, really.

“You threw a Tony at me!” Nat’s Steve protested.

“Yeah, and it worked.”  Clean Steve smiled, smug as hell.

Nat closed her eyes, shook her head, and immediately started backing up the video.  “Where  _ is  _ Tony, anyway?”

“Downstairs, in armor, explaining that he doesn’t have his credit card but they should absolutely bill him anyway.”  

Natasha looked back at Steve.  “That’s going to wind up billing  _ our  _ Tony.”

“Oh, is it?  Gosh.” Eyes closed and covered wtih beard, and Steve was  _ still  _ a terrible liar.

Her phone beeped at her, and she slid it into her purse.  She stepped away from the two deliciously-built idiots on the bed and grabbed her suitcase, then backtracked, remembering her catsuit was still in the bathroom, talking as she moved.  “I found Fury, by the way. Plan’s a no-go; we’re leaving him here.”

“Good lord,  _ why?   _ We came all the way to this place— hey, Cap, you wouldn’t  _ believe  _ what the name of this town is—”  A grunt; Steve was probably poking his counterpart.

“Fury’s here with his daughter,” Nat said.  She stole one of the towels and wrapped her catsuit in it before taking it back to her suitcase.  “I’m not splitting that up.”

“...He has a daughter?”  

“I’m still confused about why you were looking for Nick Fury in this place.”  Clean shaven Steve gestured at the now-destroyed room. “It’s not exactly his style.”

“Why do you think he picked it?” Steve argued.  

“We had a tip,” Nat said dryly.  “And yes, he has a daughter. And a step-wife.  And dogs— ugly, skinny dogs. I’m not splitting them up.”  She snapped her suitcase closed and hoisted it. “He’ll probably get bored on his own, anyway— go looking for some new kind of trouble.  And on a related note, I’m going back to Iowa.” She nodded her head to the two forms on the bed as a goodbye. “Boys.”

She rolled her little suitcase down to the lobby and put on her best I-Usually-Ask-For-A-Manager-So-Don’t-Try-Me face before demanding a cab.  Then she stalked out the front door before pulling out her cell and texting.

> _ This should more than cover the bill. _

Then she sent her Tony Stark the hotel’s address and the video before skipping town, one last piece of lemon meringue securely hidden in her luggage.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Avengers Assemble has Nick Fury voiced by Chi McBride, and it INSTANTLY spawned a million headcanons in me. In this fic, Steve and Nat's hotel is located in Coeur de Coeur; now write me that sweet delicious fic about Nat meeting Chuck! Give me the snippet where she finds out that the secret she's looking for is in a convent! Show me Fury slowburn recruiting Ned for the new Avengers, and/or knitting himself a gun cozy! GIVE ME THE FIC!


End file.
